“I’m not afraid of my own hard work.” But that diamond kept beckoning, the fantasy he was painting just as brilliant.
A year and a month. It wasn’t a lifetime commitment, but what if a commitment was what she wanted?
Get over it, said that survival guide. If love hasn’t found you by now, why not take this? Could love be any better?
Wasn’t her common sense right this time? Her emotional instincts sure hadn’t been.
She still tested him. “I wonder if I should be offended because you don’t want to look like a jerk for accidentally marrying me and then dumping me. Is that part of your grand plan, too—to avoid that bad press?”
“A big part.”
She almost flinched at his honesty. “I suppose you’re making up for your lies by being very direct now.”
“I had to start some time.”
Going too fast . . .
She took a breath, tried to slow this down. “So to get this straight . . . this would be a marriage in name only?”
Ben smiled, all man, and she shivered with delicious vibrations.
“That’s up to you,” he said. “We could have separate rooms, or one of our own.”
That blue, blue flame burned low in his gaze, and her sex lit up, too. She couldn’t help herself.
She didn’t give him an answer yet, though. This was huge. Massive. Normal people didn’t make deals like this.
“If I was entertaining the thought of this idea,” she said, “I’d have to insist on no cheating.”
He nodded. “Understood. Cheating’s not in my reformation plan, anyway. I promise—I won’t even go to my friend’s strip club in North Vegas, although I’m a card-carrying regular.”
Well . . . bravo?
“But just so you know,” he added, “I’m a guy, and a guy’s sex drive is . . .”
The waiter arrived with their food, and Ben reclined in his seat, smiling politely at the server and muttering, “That was sure fast.”
Liz kind of liked to see him thwarted like this. She wasn’t feeling cruel, just . . . Heck, he deserved a little discomfort after what he’d pulled.
The aroma of her Farm Benedict, savory and hearty, didn’t even have the power to stop the conversation again after their waiter left with a grin at the ring sitting on the table.
Liz batted her eyelashes at Ben, letting her food cool. “You were saying something about a guy’s sex drive?”
Ben sent a lowered gaze at her. “I think you’ve got a good idea of what I mean. Going without sex for a year and month would be like an eternity for a man.”
“Aw, poor thing.” Liz cut into some egg, tomato, and bacon. “So if I decided on separate rooms, you’d just have to invest in a lot of lotion and tissue.”
He gave her a wicked, we’ll-see-how-long-you’d-last look before he drank his orange juice, ignoring his food. As she ate, he got on with the discussion.
“For all intents and purposes, we’d be very married, Liz. I wouldn’t do anything to disrespect you or degrade you.”
She stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth as a thawing warmth curled through her chest.
He fixed his gaze on the ring, and she could’ve sworn his gaze softened as much as she had.
“I’ve always been good at keeping women happy in the short term,” he said. “As for a longer run? I’m going to try like hell, and I’m going to be good at it.”
“Until you get what you want.”
“Until we both get what we want. Then we can go back to our own lives, although mine’s going to be more sedate than it has been. Or at least more discreet. All I need is the fresh start this marriage can give me, just as I suspect you do.”
Stirring around her food, she dared herself to ask him more about why he seemed so casual about a business marriage. And when she looked up to see his clear gaze, waiting for her to talk, she decided to go for it.
“It doesn’t bother you that you’re not getting married for love?” she asked.
He reached for her free hand again, and the rush of remembered passion nearly sent her whirring.
“I’m going to say this flat-out so you don’t have any expectations, Liz.”
There went her hopeful heart again, free-falling.
“I’ve never seen evidence that love exists,” he said. “Not in my world, anyway. I wasn’t raised to find it because the currency in my household was, as I said, respect. My father never married for love, even with all the times he said I do. He likes women, companionship, but I’ve never seen him give any indication that he’d go to the end of the earth for any of his wives. They’re like new offices that he moves into every so often, just so he has a change of scenery. Same goes for my brothers, but without the marriage part.”
“Wow.” Liz’s food was getting cold. No wonder, with the arctic blast she’d just gotten from Ben. She lightened the mood. “And here I was, naïvely believing that love is a symphony.” She smiled. “At least Switchfoot thinks that way.”
He also smiled at the reference to the band and their song. But she doubted he believed in the same lyrics she did.
“Liz,” he said, “just for the record, I do like you. A lot—and you probably know that from last night. And ‘like’ is more than a lot of people have ever had in a business deal, especially the kind we’re talking about. Plus, think of how many divorces there are, ugly breakups, all because people expected too much of each other. Think of how we’re going to avoid that because our terms will be laid out nice and clear. We both would come out as winners on this.”
Winner. Yeah, she sure felt like one, because wasn’t this just another rejection all dressed up in glittering diamonds?
But . . . jeez. A new life. A charmed one. One year and a month of pretending . . . unless she wouldn’t be pretending at all.
She drank her juice, put it down, her gaze going to the ring again.
Ben chuckled, probably thinking he had her. “Do you want to talk about the nuts and bolts of a deal?”
Maddie resurfaced for a moment. Sad, lovelorn, romantic Maddie. “And if I tell you to go to hell with this?”
“I’d still be asking you to sign a nondisclosure agreement because of what’s already gone on with us, as well as with Jameson.”
Liz almost told him everything: that she wouldn’t get married unless he told her there was a chance for more than a business pact. Maybe he didn’t love her yet, but just the glimmer of it would have made Maddie happy.
He took the ring out of the box, capturing her free hand with his. “Why don’t you try this on for size?”
She didn’t stop him as he slid the ring on her finger. It wasn’t an exact fit, but she took in a deep breath anyway, unable to stop staring at the shimmer and temptation.
“We’ll get it fitted,” he said.
But she wasn’t thinking about how it looked on her finger as much as how it felt in her soul. She could have everything she wanted, including one of the world’s most eligible, handsome bachelors at her disposal, all hers. She might even be able to get more out of him if she really put some elbow grease into it. . . .
Even as Ben settled back in his seat, ready to talk terms, Liz knew that she wasn’t going to take that ring off.
Not ever, if she could help it.
***
Later that day, Ben rearranged Boomer’s godforsaken La-Z-Boy chair in the family room, pulling it nearer to the old wide-screen projection TV, but it still didn’t look right.
He wanted everything to be in place for Liz, but this was Boomer’s house, and Ben wondered how the man ever got laid when he lived in such a disco museum. Yeah, Ben could move out, leaving behind his housesitting duties, but where would he go with Liz? A luxury suite at the Macau on the Strip? No—if Ben was going to be married, he was going to do it right, finding a house in Vegas starting first thing tomorrow. He also wanted to keep a low profile until the contract was signed, so Boomer’s place would have to do for now.
The doorbell rang, and Ben
ran a hand through his hair.
It had to be Liz.
A combination of excitement, desire, and victory shot through him. Married, he thought. We’re actually going through with this deal.
At that thought, another emotion joined the others—fear. Because what if he couldn’t fool anyone into thinking he could be a responsible husband? What if he was fooling himself most of all?
As he walked to the door, he refused to screw up before he’d even started.
Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, he thought. Believe it.
He opened the door, ready to greet Liz with a patented Bennett Hughes welcome-to-my-life smile. But at first sight of her wearing knee-high black boots and a smart black knit dress with long sleeves, lit by the dusk and loaded down with suitcases, his veins twined around each other.
Her lips on his, her breath on his skin, her fingers digging into his back . . .
But the fantasy was ruined when her friend Anita poked her curly dark head from around Liz, who cocked an eyebrow.
“Guess who,” Liz said.
Ben didn’t lose his smile. Please, tell him Anita and the rest of Liz’s friends weren’t moving in with her for some deranged reason.
“Good to see you,” he said convivially, reaching out to relieve Liz of some of her luggage. “Is this everything?”
Liz gratefully gave over her load to him. “There’s more in my car and some in Anita’s. I wasn’t sure of what you already have here, seeing as you’re staying in a friend’s house. Then again, if you’re a Hughes, you probably have a lot.”
Anita laughed, but it wasn’t all that light. “A man who can commit to a quickie marriage but not a home. Who knew?”
As Liz gave her the eye, Anita brushed past them both, struggling inside with a laundry basket full of shoes. Ben stepped aside to let her by.
“The room at the end of the hallway?” she asked from inside.
“Sure,” Ben said. They’d sort rooms out later.
Liz shrugged a bit. “She’s not exactly in favor of this.”
“She knows about our deal?” Ben kept his voice down. He’d made it clear that no one, not even her friends, could know.
“Oh, no way,” she whispered quickly. “I told Anita that I misinterpreted everything this morning, and it turns out you’re just as much of a love-struck idiot as I am, even if she thinks the marriage is going to fall apart. I’m not allowed to come crying back to her when it happens. But the rest of my friends are crazed with happiness for me.”
Good. She’d stuck with the detailed story they’d come up with over breakfast, when they’d hammered out the terms of their contract. He’d returned here and filled his lawyer in on everything.
Liz started to wheel her suitcases over the threshold, and he had an inspired idea.
He put down her luggage and, on the way back up, swept her into his arms.
“What . . . ?” Liz squealed.
Just like that, he brought her into their love nest, making goo-goo eyes at her, as Kat might’ve said.
“Welcome home,” he told her.
The air crackled between them, and for the briefest time, he actually meant what he said. He couldn’t resist those violet eyes that seemed so filled with affection—even if there was no way she could be thinking he would eventually come around to being a real husband. Not after their talk today.
She’d slipped her arms around his neck, almost as if she didn’t realize what she was doing. “Good to be here,” she whispered, her voice thick.
And they stayed like that for what seemed to be a heartbeat that stretched on and on until his lips tingled with the need to press his mouth against hers . . .
“Give it a rest,” said Anita, coming around the corner.
Ben held on to Liz even tighter. Act I, Scene Whatever—The Couple Moves In.
“Now, Anita,” he said with a grin, “you weren’t such a hater yesterday at the pool.”
“That was because you hadn’t toyed with my girl yet.” Anita was still on her way out the door, obviously wanting to leave as soon as possible.
Liz watched her go, her arms loosening from around him. Automatically, Ben eased her down until her feet hit the floor.
“Anita’s going to come around,” she said in confidence. “I’ll work on her, bring her on board with the dinner-club plans. Soon, she’ll be your biggest fan when she sees that we’re in this for more than a few weeks.”
The dinner club. Right. Liz had her reasons for being here and he had his. And just because he saw a flash of something in her eyes every so often didn’t mean anything.
They both stepped outside into the hushed fall air, where the trees near Boomer’s picket fence were starting to shed leaves. Anita was pulling a garbage bag bursting with clothes out of the backseat of her aged compact car. Liz guided Ben over to her green Celica, which had seen better days, too.
He thought of what Liz would look good in: a red Maserati GranCabrio convertible? He’d ask her what her flavor was later.
As she reached into the open trunk and brought out more clothing-stuffed garbage bags, pushing them into his grasp, she said, “So this is your friend’s place?”
“Yup.” Every single inch of the light blue, planked one-story house with the rooster weather vane on top and two-car garage on the side.
Anita walked up the stone-lined path, past the rock landscaping and decorative cacti. “It looks like the seventies accidentally wandered into that house and never left.”
Ben shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”
“You could be a little nicer, Ani,” Liz called after her, as Ben followed her.
They entered the house, and she paused. “Which room . . . ?”
He smiled devilishly. “Did you want to share or have your own?”
“Hah-hah.”
But before Liz could answer, Anita came out of the hallway.
Apparently, this was the perfect time for a dressing-down, and she let him have it, her hands on her slim hips.
“Number one,” she said. “You treat Liz like a queen, or I’m going to rage over here like an ape on ’roids and tear your head off.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he paid her the respect of listening to . . .
“Number two.” She pointed at him, then wagged her finger. “There is no number two. Got it? I think my friend is temporarily loco en el coco, and you’ve got to be just as touched in the head. Maybe playboy billionaires do this type of thing all the time, but my Lizzie is a sweet and decent human being. You will go to hell if you pull another stunt like you did yesterday.”
And he was sure Anita would send him there. “I understand.” He stroked Liz’s hair back from her face in a show of married love, and she smiled at him. “I’ll treat her like the queen.”
Liz’s gaze seemed to go misty under his, and he rested his hand on her neck, feeling her pulse throb. The sensation echoed in him. Lust for his new wife, that was all.
As long as they kept to the contract, they’d be just fine. Anita would see.
She gave them a good, long look, then headed for the door. “I’ve got to get to work. See you tomorrow for lunch?”
She was obviously talking to Liz.
“Yes,” Liz said. “Thank you so much, Ani.”
“You won’t be thanking me when you open a closet in this place and find the skeleton of Jimi Hendrix hanging out. Really, Bennett, this is no palace for a queen.”
“I’ll be consulting a Realtor tomorrow,” he said.
“Hmph.”
Anita left them standing by the door as Liz waved, right by his side, like an old married couple.
Liz must’ve realized how they came off at the same time he did, because when she glanced at him, her brows were furrowed. Or maybe she was thinking about the Jimi Hendrix skeleton comment.
“Why do you live here?” she asked as Anita drove away.
“Long story short? I was staying on the Strip, and my friend Boomer needed a housesitter, so I volunteered until he
gets back, which should be soon. I haven’t minded so much—I was spending most of my time at the Rough & Tumble anyway, and this place is within walking distance.”
“Why, Ben, I didn’t know you had a practical side.”
“Barely.”
She strolled back into the house as if she were already at home with the velvet Elvis paintings in the hall and the beads that were tied back from its entrance, with the naughahyde sofa in the family room and the potted fern near the sliding glass door leading to a fenced patio that showcased the mountains behind Boomer’s property.
“Well,” she said, “as long as you feel good about being here, I do, too.”
Her words dug deep. After all, she’d married him before she’d known he was Bennett Hughes, and here she was, showing that she was just as accepting of him in a modest house as in a mansion.
Before the warm fuzzies could invade him, his cell phone rang. At first, he thought it might be Jameson, who’d been leaving voice mails for the last couple of hours. But Ben was also expecting that e-mail from the lawyer, and it might’ve been him calling instead.
And he sure needed the reprieve. Ben had texted Jameson that he was in the thick of the mission and would get back to him tomorrow morning, but his brother had never been a patient man. Just thinking about telling Jameson the wedding news, letting the cat out of the bag and waiting for his family to react, made Ben restless. But he wanted to get this contract signed before any big announcements were made.
He nodded toward the table where he’d set his phone. “That might be the lawyer, letting me know the contract’s in. I’d like to take a look at it before going over the paperwork with you.”
“Okay. I haven’t eaten since earlier, anyway. Does that little saloon down the road serve food? Maybe a salad?”
“Kat can get something for you, but I do have food here, you know. Not lettuce, but my stuff is edible.”
Liz shook her head. “Since I ate more than I should’ve this morning, I need to keep it light, and salad’s just the thing. While I’m there, I’ll remember to keep the marriage news to myself, except for your friends Kat and Gideon, if I run into them.”
Down and Dirty Page 14
